


it takes two to tango (it takes two to swing)

by shoutz



Series: snow, as she falls [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Friends With Benefits, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, kind of friends with benefits it's complicated, listen ok this was a good idea at the time, lots of oral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 10:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21427060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoutz/pseuds/shoutz
Summary: It may, in fact, take more than two to tango. We'll find out soon enough.“Mmm… You’re such a sight. Absolutely divine.” She reaches up to cover her face with her hands, embarrassed at the outright praise. “I bet Ser Aymeric would love to see you like this.”She bats at his chest, almost bashful and yet playful as she chuckles. “Oh, stop it…”But Estinien is staring straight at Aymeric through the crack in the door. Pointedly. Before Aymeric can think to take his leave, she notices and follows his gaze to the doorway.“Well? Did you?”
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood, Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood, Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: snow, as she falls [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572478
Comments: 31
Kudos: 277





	it takes two to tango (it takes two to swing)

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers... I think? 9k of basically only porn. Title from [Femme Fatale by Coyote Kid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PCA3esnOGbE). Not beta'ed because I couldn't possibly force another human to actually read this. It's my first time writing smut so please be g*ntle

“‘Oh! I didn’t think to find you here!’ No— by the Fury, it’s her quarters, of course I would find her there. Maybe… ‘Oh hello! I’ve been…searching for you?’ Damn…”

Aymeric sighs out his frustration in one quick huff as he meanders through the halls of the Fortemps estate, trying to find a plausible excuse for seeking out the Warrior of Light at such an hour. In all honesty, it is her companionship over a few glasses of wine he truly seeks, but stating something so brazen is unbefitting a man of his stature and reputation. Doubtless she would welcome such bluntness, and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he had propositioned her for a drink or two, but…

It takes a different context when it takes place in the de Borel manse with only the two of them in attendance, rather than in the Forgotten Knight with a few comrades as is their usual.

Now that the Dragonsong War has played out its last dithering notes, Ishgard finds itself not necessarily at peace, but whole, and without such dire conflict looming overhead. The Warrior of Light has since taken the icy city as her preferred home between adventures, and it allows for their relationship to take on a whole new layer of complexity. They can finally have the drink they promised each other before the final fight, the one Aymeric almost doubted they would ever have the opportunity to share. Moreover, they finally have the luxury to truly get to know each other outside the yoke of primals and dragons and death. Things have sped up in both of their lives, to be sure, but with the two of them at least stationary for the time being, it begets an opportunity that Aymeric means to take.

Which is why he finds himself in the Fortemps Manor, wondering if the manservant would think less of him for asking where exactly her quarters reside.

He’s mere moments away from turning around and letting his shame preside, when he hears the faintest noise.

A soft, barely audible sound through the door to his left, taking the shape of a distinctly lewd, “_Oh…_”

A knot pulls taut in his gut, his first instinct instructing him to turn on his heel, to leave and forget he ever heard such a noise. Such a noise from a familiar, female voice.

Of course it’s none of his business what she does in her spare time. It’s not his place to ask about such things, even less so for him to know at all should it not concern him directly. But a deep, nearly shameful curiosity draws him closer to the door rather than leaving as logic would have it.

“_Nnn…_”

Another soft sound, and suddenly Aymeric knows with certainty both who lies beyond that door, and what exactly she is doing. The only mystery left to solve is whom the esteemed Warrior of Light has taken to bed.

Before his mind can scatter with a million different possibilities, each less pleasing than the last as they all lack himself, his unasked question is answered.

“_Estinien…_”

The knot in Aymeric’s stomach feels dense as a stone, weighing him down as his imagination spirals out of control. Of course she would take him to bed; the Azure Dragoon is not without a reputation of his own, and as two of the most physically capable (and attractive) people Aymeric has had the pleasure to know and even befriend, their coupling seems only natural. A quiet envy settles in his chest, though, knee-jerk and uncontrollable. Aymeric first wonders how long this arrangement has been in place, but soon after that question takes shape, another more dangerous question makes itself known: _why didn’t I know?_

It’s a childish thought, really, and that quality is not lost on Aymeric. Certainly it is none of his business what his colleagues get up to in their time away from the prying eyes of Ishgard. The relationship detracts not from their more serious business, and to Aymeric's knowledge they have never seemed like more than close friends or allies in the public eye. But it is a thought he has nonetheless, one that has him flushing deep crimson in shame. Were he less understanding of his place in her life, he would have felt something with more of a bite, but he finds himself only resigned at the realization. His respect and admiration for the Warrior of Light far outshines whatever jealousy he might harbor concerning the company she keeps in the privacy of her own quarters. His main dilemma now is how he might miraculously move past his seemingly bottomless infatuation with her. It is not something he thinks he could look beyond in favor of a professional relationship.

Frankly, he’s not sure there’s enough alcohol in the world to get rid of the feelings he harbors for her.

Aymeric has half a mind to turn and take his shameful leave, perhaps to a cold bath or a lonesome bottle of wine to begin the arduous process of moving on, but he hears an answering chuckle above the quiet noises of skin against skin.

“I’m surprised. You don’t usually moan my name,” he says with nonchalance completely unbefitting a man having intimate relations with perhaps the most powerful person in Eorzea. Aymeric’s mind latches on the word _usually_, implying that this is not the first time the two have found comfort in each other’s bodies, but the thought is dispelled when Estinien continues, “But I’m sure it’s not the name you’d prefer to moan, hm?”

The rhythmic noises of their coupling stutter for a brief moment. “What— what? I don’t—”

“Your puppy crush on our dear Lord Commander is plain enough to any man with eyes, so don’t try to deny that,” Estinien says, and Aymeric covers his mouth. _Puppy crush? Me?_ “But I do wonder how far it truly goes. Is it just passing infatuation? Is it love? Is it _lust?_”

“_Oh!_” There’s a sudden motion, and whatever it is startles a moan out of her that has the tips of Aymeric’s ears turning pink. He really shouldn’t be here. Despite the many revelations about her feelings, despite the two of them discussing _him_, and most of all, despite the knowledge that she and Estinien share this sexual relationship while _actively_ acknowledging the former two, Aymeric knows it’s wrong for him to be hearing these things said in confidence. Even more so while the two of them…enjoy each other’s company, so to speak.

Yet Aymeric’s feet refuse to carry him away from this chance encounter.

“_Ah…_ I thought as much. I’m sure he feels much the same.” Aymeric tries not to choke on his own saliva. _How does he know?_

There’s a short pause, before Estinien laughs again and says, “Oh _yes_, my dear, I’m certain if Ser Aymeric knew what I had the privilege of doing with you… He’d be _furious_.” He hisses out the last word and whatever he does to accompany it elicits a whimper from her. He couldn’t be further from the truth, really, but that such a concept seems so appealing to the Warrior of Light makes Aymeric’s skin tingle.

“_Hah…_ H-He wouldn't…” Her thought doesn’t complete itself. Whatever they’re doing seems to speed up, and a deep part of Aymeric wishes the door was cracked even a small amount, just enough that he can see what he lacks. His imagination could never do justice to the true sight, he knows.

“Oh? You don’t think he’d break that stoic mask he keeps? Just impassively smoldering with those piercing eyes and perfect cheekbones while he _rails_ into you?”

_“Nnn! _Please…_”_

Aymeric has to clench a fist to keep it from relieving the pressure that has been building around his crotch since he first chanced across such a scene. He knows that once he starts, he will not be so easily stopped, and the shame of it would hound his heels until his final breath.

“I bet you wish you could ride him like this. That you could wring your pleasure from him yourself…”

“Mm… Mhm…” Her voice is softer, like she is listening intently and unwilling to interrupt.

Estinien takes this as encouragement and continues. “Do you think he’d be noisy in bed? Or would his moans be quiet, desperate little things… Oh, I think he would _scream _for you.”

“Oh please… Estinien— _Ah!_” A smack sounds as she moans louder. It awakens something within Aymeric, something desperate and hungry. It’s all he can do to resist the urge to push the door open a crack himself, just to see…

“Now my dear, we’ve discussed this… Whose name do you _truly_ wish to moan?” There's a short pause before Estinien’s deep chuckle sounds through the door, low and conspiratorial. “Don't be shy… I won't tell.” Aymeric can nearly hear the smirk in his voice, the soft whisper of his hands familiarizing themselves with her skin. “Unless you want me to, of course.”

“Oh… Gods, yes, right there…” Her voice pitches itself higher at some new stimulation, a stark harmonic contrast to Estinien’s low and rolling tone, but it’s quiet enough that Aymeric can’t quite tell what might be causing it.

He makes the grave mistake of pressing closer to the door in an attempt to hear clearer, and it is his undoing. Much to Aymeric’s surprise and abject horror, the door gives just slightly beneath the press of his ear. The hinges are blessedly silent. His action goes unnoticed, or at least if it is, it does not interrupt the two of them.

His grave miscalculation opens a small crack in the doorway, enough by which to see, and Aymeric has to cover his mouth once again at the risk of being caught.

The Warrior of Light kneels astride Estinien, legs bracketing his hips as she looms above him with her back facing the door, a minor miracle. She props herself upright with her hands on Estinien’s chest, fingers curled into fists that no doubt left red scratches against his fair skin. One of his hands curls gentle around her hip, holding her still, while the other disappears between their bodies where they are joined together out of Aymeric’s line of sight. Her shoulders hunch and her breaths are labored, punctuated by broken moans as her hips move in slow, small circles.

She presents such an incredible image, composed of skin that nearly glimmers with sweat, and Aymeric feels the need to commit the sight to memory. Her hair hangs in front of her face, not quite long enough to pass her collarbones, mussed out of place by the exertion. The muscles in her back are pronounced, with a strength lurking beneath that comes so naturally to the Warrior of Light. As his gaze trails further down, he can almost see where Estinien’s length splits her open, obscured only because she is fully seated upon it.

His surprise at being able to see her like this overshadows Estinien’s presence until that moment, as he offers the Warrior of Light a pleasure not meant for Aymeric’s eyes, the pleasure he so wishes to provide her himself. He chances a glance towards him, for only the briefest of moments, and nearly startles backwards.

Estinien locks eyes with Aymeric as he continues his ministrations between them. And he _smirks_.

And he says _nothing_.

“Ah… _hah…_ please, d-don’t… Don’t stop—” her moans and sighs continue to escalate in pitch, the line of her spine growing more tense as she is brought closer to the edge of orgasm. Estinien finally looks away from Aymeric and up at her, smirking as his hand moves faster.

“Come now, my dear,” Estinien goads, sliding his other hand up to rest at her slender neck. His fingers can almost wrap around it in its entirety, something Aymeric desperately wishes he see for himself, by his own hand. They linger for only a moment before they snake into her hair at the back of her neck, tugging at the base and forcing her to lean backwards. “Nice and _loud_.”

He punctuates his final word with a sudden thrust of his hips upwards, and Aymeric watches in real time as—

“_Aymeric!_”

The Warrior of Light jolts and shakes with the force of her orgasm, spine forced into an arch from his hand still holding her hair. Moans roll from her lips in waves, a litany of noises vaguely shaped around his name. _Aymeric’s_ name. It’s something he can’t fathom, not even in his most erotic, disgraceful dreams, and yet…

Aymeric doesn't dare move, doesn't dare _breathe_ for fear of dispelling whatever illusion may be displaying itself before his eyes. His groin pulses with heat, begging for attention he cannot with good conscience give it. With so many shocking realizations in such a short time, even being discovered in such a deplorable manner… It’s all he can do to stand upright, much less act upon any of his more uncouth urges.

She twitches through the aftershocks of such a violent finish, rib cage expanding and contracting hypnotically with each labored breath. Estinien’s grin sharpens, his hand still making small motions between them. She squirms at the stimulation, clearly sensitive but not at all opposed to the notion of more.

“Mmm… You’re such a sight. Absolutely divine.” She reaches up to cover her face with her hands, embarrassed at the outright praise. “I bet Ser Aymeric would love to see you like this.”

She bats at his chest, almost bashful and yet playful as she chuckles. “Oh, stop it…”

But Estinien is staring straight at Aymeric through the crack in the door. Pointedly. Before Aymeric can think to take his leave, she notices this and follows his gaze to the doorway.

They lock eyes. Her mouth falls open in shock. Aymeric is frozen in place, unable to breathe or move or think a coherent thought beyond _oh no_.

“Well? Did you?”

Her head whips around to look at Estinien. She smacks his shoulder again, harder this time, cheeks and ears turning bright red.

“What do you mean _did you?!_”

In response, Estinien just laughs. It is a low, almost suggestive noise that somehow reaches Aymeric’s core. It reminds him of exactly what he bears witness to, exactly what he just _bore_ witness to.

The byproduct of Aymeric’s fleeting panic has him entering the room and shutting the door, sliding the deadbolt home properly this time. He doesn’t fully realize what he has done until he hears the click of the lock, and when he finally does, he has to fight against his instinct to freeze in fear. _You’ve made this bed yourself, de Borel. _

_Lay in it._

She hears the door shut and whips back around to face him, hands attempting to offer some meager modesty by covering her bare breasts. They seem to forget she still sits flush with Estinien’s lap, bound to him in the most vulgar way possible, far more scandalous than her indecent exposure.

“I can explain, I… I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to pry into your personal matters,” Aymeric says in a rush, trying to somehow make it sound acceptable that he was so rudely eavesdropping on them. Giving voice to what just occurred makes it sound so much worse to his ears, bringing forth an overwhelming wave of shame. “I should go—”

“Oh please! You already went through the trouble of locking the door for us,” Estinien says, resuming his ministrations, slow and careful movements of the wrist and hand against her where they connect. “I know I wouldn’t mind a little extra company. Would you, my dear?”

The Warrior of Light, on the other hand, bites her lip almost clean through in an attempt to muffle the noises that are so eager to escape. Even after coming down from such a blissful high, she still seems ready for more. Almost more willing, with the possibility of additional companionship lingering overhead.

In lieu of a vocal reply, she maintains eye contact with Aymeric and gives him one slow nod of her head. Somehow, more than anything else he has heard or seen tonight, that simple motion sets his blood boiling.

“By my guess, our dear friend liked what he heard. It would be rude of us to deny him his pleasure while we so selfishly chase our own, don’t you think?” She doesn’t respond to his question, keeping her eyes locked on Aymeric as she slowly rolls her hips. He thinks his face flushes hotter, but he isn’t entirely sure that’s possible. “_Ah_… Come here, now, don’t keep the lady waiting.”

Slowly, carefully, Aymeric eases the vice grip he had kept on his waning self-control. His feet carry him forward, step by step, until he’s at the edge of their bed.

Closer now, Aymeric can see the details he had been missing through the crack in the door. The sheen of sweat on her skin shimmers in the candlelight, giving her a radiant glow that captivates him. Now that he finds himself within reach, he has to keep a tight control on the urge to touch, to feel, to confirm reality through tactile means. The only thing stopping him is an instinctual fear that his advances might be unwelcome, that he has somehow gravely misread the situation and overstepped every boundary that ever existed between them.

She watches him with rapt attention, pupils blown wide with a hunger that nearly intimidates Aymeric. But who is he to deny the Warrior of Light her desires?

After a moment, she grins and reaches towards him. He is drawn forward almost magnetically to her touch and has to suppress a shiver as her fingertips smooth across his shoulders, divesting him of his coat.

“You are entirely too clothed, my lord,” she says.

Aymeric spends a moment or two in shock. He has been handed this incredible opportunity — one that he had assumed would take weeks if not months of careful courting to obtain — and now that he has it in his possession, before him clear as day, he has not the faintest idea of what to do.

But, well, he supposes following her lead would be a good start.

“Of course.” He reaches up and begins unfastening the buttons of his shirt, trying not to fumble in his urgency to obey. Her nimble hands do him the favor of untucking the shirttails from his waistband. He has to clench his teeth to resist a shiver as her fingers smooth across his hips, so gentle, as if appreciating the texture of a fine silk.

As the two of them work, Estinien eases her off his length, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her torso. He peppers kisses at her shoulders and neck, which have her sighing quietly and leaning into him. Aymeric’s first instinct is to blush and look away, of course; he has to actively remind himself that he is welcome here, that he is allowed to watch, and most importantly, that these two incredible individuals truly want him to share this moment with them. As an active participant, this time, rather than a voyeur.

The shirt falls off his shoulders to join his coat on the floor, leaving his chest bare. The Warrior of Light smooths her hands across his chest and ribs appreciatively and Aymeric clenches his teeth against the chills that want to creep up his spine. Gentle, feather-light fingers dance their way across his skin, towards their final destination at his jaw. Carefully, so carefully, she beckons him forward and graces his lips with a kiss.

It’s slow and tentative at first, neither sure of the other’s willingness to commit so soon after such a risque revelation, but it doesn’t take long for the two of them to become lost in each other. Aymeric reaches up with the intention of cradling her delicate face, to deepen the kiss, but he hesitates just shy of her skin.

His hands hover uselessly for a few moments, until she guides them with her own to hold her, cradling just beneath her ears. Finally touching her, feeling her soft skin for himself, is a tactile sensation that sets something alight within Aymeric. It reminds him that this is _real_, she is _real_, and though the question of what this means for their relationship looms above them, they couldn’t possibly be bothered with such petty matters in the face of such satisfaction. He pulls her closer and the kiss in turn becomes hungry, possessive. It’s so easy to indulge in the soft press of her lips, in the taste of her, in being so close that the warmth radiates from her skin, dispelling the chill that so relentlessly follows all who live in Ishgard. The kiss loses almost all its tenderness in favor of quenching the bone-deep ache they seem to harbor for each other.

“There it is,” Estinien comments from his position near her shoulder, content to sit idle as he watches events unfold.

Unconcerned and consumed with the desire to gain as much tactile sensation as possible, Aymeric surges even closer and lets his kiss trail down to the hinge of her jaw. She gasps a breath in response, and another when Aymeric reaches up to cup a breast.

“_Gods_, Aymeric… You’ve been keeping this from me for so long,” she murmurs as his kisses trail over her collarbone, “It is entirely unfair.”

Aymeric grins against her skin, glancing upwards. Her eyes are closed and Estinien is watching with rapt attention, gaze flitting between his two lovers. Aymeric’s voice is surprisingly low when he replies, “ I would remedy that, should you allow me the chance.”

A smirk creeps across her face and she finally looks down at him. He can’t help but note that she looks incredible from all angles, of course, but especially this one. “And what did you have in mind, my lord?”

In lieu of an answer, he presses his lips above her heart, skimming his fingertips across her torso in delicate patterns and trying to memorize the feel of her. So many possibilities come to mind, each more debauched than the last, and his innate desire for all of them at once almost overcomes him. He hums once in consideration, letting his hands drift lower and lower with each movement. It is a mystery even to him how he maintains composure. Goosebumps rise on her skin at the sensation of Aymeric’s breath as he finally speaks, “I would taste you, should you allow me the chance.”

“Ever the wordsmith, our lord of lords,” she comments, though her voice is slightly less composed than before. This realization sends heat through Aymeric’s body, spurring him onwards as he trails lower and lower still.

“He looks exceptional between two thighs, doesn’t he? A work of art,” Estinien speaks up once Aymeric is pressing kisses against her hips, appreciating the warm skin. Her legs fall open to create space for him to kneel before her, as his hands skim everywhere but the place she desires it most. She squirms when he comes close, but he never quite reaches her satisfaction.

A hand smooths back his hair, appreciating its texture as fingernails scrape gently against his scalp. He glances up to see the two of them watching, pink dusting both of their cheeks. The Warrior of Light nods and removes her hand; his hair falls back into place in dark waves against his forehead.

“That he does,” she breathes, considerably more bothered than before, “He also seems quite fond of teasing. So unlike you, Estinien… I’m not sure which I prefer.”

Estinien hums, thoughtful. Aymeric lets his fingers brush across her groin once, just barely as he places slow kisses on her upper thighs, but she twitches and gasps in response regardless. “Fortunately for you, my dear, you don’t have to choose.”

He pulls her closer with a hand on her jaw and into a deep kiss, one she returns with a leisurely pleasure. They kiss with the fervor of two souls so comfortable in each other that they can't help but meld together as one. Estinien seems to know the exact amount of force, the exact amount of tenderness to please her, so natural as to seem more akin to breathing than kissing. It's a knowledge Aymeric wishes he could have, and realizes that perhaps he can have the honor of learning it, in time.

With her attention averted, Aymeric chooses that moment to finally press his lips to her, a single kiss against her sex that elicits a moan muffled by Estinien’s mouth. He licks one slow stripe between the folds and this time earns an uninhibited, full moan, alongside a hand threaded into his hair with the intent to pull.

Though not a virgin, Aymeric admittedly does not possess much experience in the realm of the female body; he knows the basics, but has not had much time to practice them for himself against another. The progression to this point felt natural enough, at least, and despite not really knowing what was expected of him, the reactions he receives in response to his ministrations do much to substantiate his actions and ability to give pleasure. Otherwise, he finds himself letting his body take over in his mind's stead, chasing pleasure for himself and for his lovers by instinct.

A glance upwards sees the long stretch of her neck as her head tilts back, luxuriating at the sensation of Aymeric’s tongue against her. Estinien uses that moment to press a sloppy kiss to the exposed skin, reaching up to grab a breast seemingly as an afterthought.

“_Oh_… You two…hah… You’re so…” She never finishes the thought, devolving from coherent speech into unintelligible moans as Aymeric focuses his attention against her clit. Agonizingly slow at first, he speeds up his rhythmic motions, barely applying more and more pressure against her. It’s teasing, he knows, but the way she writhes — so much so that Estinien has to hold her in place to keep her from squirming off the bed — encourages him to inch ever closer to her satisfaction.

Her thighs and core are tense, moans pitching higher both in tone and in volume as Aymeric’s attention becomes more pointed and precise. It’s the same sort of moan he had heard so vividly through the door not even an hour ago, the noise that started this entire bizarre journey to land him here, between the legs of the Warrior of Light.

Just as her hand begins to tense where it tangles in his hair, he presses his tongue flat against her once, unmoving, and receives a disgruntled noise in response.

“P-Please, Aymeric, I— _oh!_” Her request goes unspoken as Aymeric licks upwards slowly, forcefully, savoring the moment: the fingers in his hair, the thighs bracketing his ears, the keening noises she makes. Knowing he is the cause of those noises, at least in part, breaks Aymeric’s composure that had so long held out. He buries himself deeper in her and moans, a low, rumbling tone that surprises even himself as it departs his lungs. It’s filled with the essence of his desire, uninhibited and plain for all to hear. He maintains the pointed pressure from before but speeds up dramatically, slick noises filling the spaces between her gasps and sighs.

“Fury, yes, _yes_— _Aymeric!_” Thighs press on either side of his head as she reaches her climax, the second of the night but the first by Aymeric’s own hand. She curls in on herself as she rides the pleasure to its finish, still tugging the hair she had so lovingly stroked before. He slows down as she does, panting for breath as her core relaxes by slow measures.

It takes a few moments of pressing chaste kisses to her thighs before the shaking stops. Her chest rises and falls with more even, measured breaths than before. Estinien keeps his lips occupied, pressing idle kisses into whatever parts of her he can reach: her shoulder, her cheek, her neck. Aymeric glances down and— blushes at the sight of Estinien’s length, so thoroughly exposed and flushed red with arousal.

It’s not until then that Aymeric realizes his own hardness, almost completely forgotten in the pursuit of her climax. He’s almost painfully hard now, cock pressing against his trousers that cling all-too tight to his hips.

“Come here, my lord,” the Warrior of Light beckons, and who is he to refuse?

He crawls onto the bed and lay beside her, opposite of Estinien. She leans over once he is within reach and kisses him slow, languid, like they have all the time in Eorzea to savor each other. She presses her tongue into his mouth, unflinching at the taste of herself on his lips.

“There is no need for honorifics here, my dear,” he says as she breaks for air.

A smirk splits her shining lips, and she rolls on top of him in one fluid motion. Estinien has the sense to press closer, laying on his side to watch the two of them.

“Oh, but I do love the sound of it. And you have so many, I think I’d like to try them all,” she purrs, lips pressed against his neck directly below his ear. Aymeric smiles and lets out a disarmed chuckle at her defiance. “Lord Commander of Our Knights Most Holy,” she whispers, and trails further down. “Lord of lords… _Ser_ Aymeric de Borel…”

“Don’t forget _pain in my ass_,” Estinien comments, murmuring in Aymeric’s other ear. He is keeping a safe distance from his skin, not quite touching, but he lingers close enough that there is no doubt of his intention.

“I’m sure he will be soon enough,” she snarks back, “If that’s something you want, that is.”

“Mmm… I think he’d much rather be a pain in your ass. I’ll find something else to do with him,” Estinien says.

Aymeric, meanwhile, turns red with each passing word, becoming increasingly flustered as his lovers discuss him as if he is not there. Discuss what they would do with him, _to_ him. It’s one thing to listen but another entirely to know they mean to make well on their promises. It doesn’t help that Estinien seems to show interest as well, something that catches Aymeric completely by surprise.

The thought has certainly crossed his mind in the past; Aymeric isn’t sure when his admiration for Estinien transitioned into more of a crush, though he reasons it was sometime during their tenure together in the Temple Knights, before they became the Azure Dragoon and the Lord Commander. Or perhaps afterwards, once they were both cemented in their responsibilities, and Estinien continued to grow stronger and more capable. But he had always thought that it would simply remain at that — a crush. Certainly not something he would ever acknowledge, nor something he would ever dare to act upon.

He finds himself unsure what to make of the realization that it may be mutual, and even less sure what to make of his feelings in this strange, beautiful scenario in which he finds himself.

Careful hands at his waistband pull him from his thoughts, slipping the strings out of their bow and letting the fabric fall slack around his hips.

“Well? What do you think, my lord?” she asks, looking up at him through her lashes as she inches Aymeric’s trousers down, planting kisses as more skin is exposed. Aymeric changes his mind in that moment; he quite enjoys how the title sounds through her sweet, sated voice. “Which would you prefer?”

He takes a long moment to look at Estinien, to truly take in the sight of his longtime friend. Their faces are close, close enough to share breaths, close enough that it wouldn’t take much at all to press forward into a kiss.

As if reading his mind, Estinien closes the distance and kisses him, firm yet tentative, as if testing the waters before diving in. Aymeric does his best to reciprocate, letting his eyes slip shut as he presses forward. With a hand at Aymeric’s jaw Estinien deepens the kiss, and earns a quiet moan for his efforts.

Estinien pulls back for a brief moment, staying close as they breathe together. Aymeric’s breath hitches as he feels the cool air on his exposed cock, with brief puffs of warmth coming from the Warrior of Light’s lips as they press at the base. In the periphery, he feels his pants slip the rest of the way off his legs, leaving his lower half exposed. He would be more self-conscious if not for the all-encompassing warmth and desire coming from both of his lovers.

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to kiss you,” Estinien says, almost offhand with how casual he sounds. As if this is a typical night, and they have been together doing _this_ for years. Aymeric almost envies his nonchalance, his confidence in his own feelings.

“I… have as well,” Aymeric answers, trying to will the heat from his cheeks. It’s a nigh impossible task, considering the Warrior of Light’s ongoing ministrations.

As if prompted, she looks up, leaving his length largely ignored as she speaks. “Kiss him again. You two are dashing together.”

Estinien looks back to Aymeric, grinning ever so slightly. “Best not deny the lady her desires. She can be quite ornery…”

The thought doesn’t require completion as they press into another kiss, one slightly more fervent than before. A brief moment passes before she finally, blessedly wraps her lips around the head of his cock. He moans into Estinien’s mouth, surprised by the escalation, but it only spurs forth both of his lovers. She presses his hips down to keep him still and takes more of his length, eager to please, while Estinien swallows down more soft noises. The stimulation on both sides almost overwhelms him, sending a thorough warmth spreading throughout his entire body, simmering low under his skin and rendering the fireplace useless.

The Warrior of Light applies suction to the head and it has Aymeric keening, gasping for breath as Estinien’s lips find his throat and suck a small bruise into the skin there. Aymeric doesn’t even have the mind to wonder if it’s low enough to be covered by his collar. Even if he did, a part of him likes the idea of bearing his mark for all to see.

The sensations are all so much at once, almost too much to handle. He tries to buck his hips up into the heat of her mouth, but her hold on his hips is firmer than expected. It seems that beneath her petite frame, the strength belonging to the Warrior of Light extends far beyond slaying primals and ending wars. Awestruck, he lets out a moan, long and low.

“_Oh_, by the Fury…” Aymeric chances a glance at her and burns hotter still at the sight. She has since pulled his length from her mouth, content to rest it on the flat of her tongue as she stares up at him. A sharp grin finds its way to her lips as they lock eyes, at once playful and completely in control, and Aymeric has to avert his gaze for fear of finishing far too soon for his liking.

“She’s good at that, isn’t she? She’s strong, too, don’t let her fool you,” Estinien whispers against his skin. At once, Aymeric understands why she suffered the _talking_ so much before he joined. The sheer sound of his voice has heat pooling low in his gut, and the words themselves hold a power that makes his moans and sighs pitch slightly higher. “But I know she’s holding back… To pay you back for all the teasing, I’d wager.” The vibrations of his words roll through him, more erotic than he had imagined now that it is directed at him. He pulls away from Aymeric’s neck for a moment, glancing down at her. “You ought to show him what he’s been missing all this time.”

With one final kiss to the base, she smirks, and then descends upon his length. In one fluid motion, she fits its entirety into her mouth and partially down her throat, applying suction as best she can. It knocks the air out of Aymeric’s chest, and he would fear for her safety if not for the firm grip on his hips holding him still.

Her throat pulses around his length as she presses her nose into the skin beneath his navel. The tight heat of her mouth constricts around him, and the noises escaping his lips are explicit beyond what even he thought was possible. She swallows once, twice, and finally pulls away, gasping for breath. He continues watching as she beams up at him, saliva shining on her lips among other fluids.

“I… _Mercy…_ It seems I have, indeed, been missing out,” Aymeric breathes as she works him over with her hand, delicate but practiced. He’s grateful for the moment of respite; he’s not sure he could have handled another moment of such brazen pleasure. “Would that I had known, I might have propositioned you sooner.”

The smile turns soft around the edges, fond as she is wont to look when she doesn’t think Aymeric is paying attention. It had been the look on her face as she watched Aymeric treat with Vidofnir in Falcon’s Nest so long ago. It had been the look when she sought him out after his time held in the Vault even further back in their shared history, asking after his well being since she had been fighting the knights of the Heaven’s Ward and had not seen him freed.

Aymeric finds he cannot possibly get enough of it.

Lips close around the head of his cock once more, beginning to suck once more at the tip, but he nudges her head back weakly in protest. “While I’d love to indulge further in your incredible skill… I’d prefer to finish elsewhere, if it please you.”

“Such a gentleman, my lord,” she says, her voice smooth as silk despite what she had just done to him. “But we’ve left our dear Estinien wanting, haven’t we?”

“I’m quite content to watch, thank you,” Estinien answers, but she seems to hear nothing of it. Instead she shifts over to his waist, forcing his hips down flat and still. The strength takes him by surprise once more, and even more so the way she manhandles the Azure Dragoon like he’s not one of the most powerful fighters ever to hold a lance.

Such an action startles a grunt from Estinien's lungs, and Aymeric can’t help but notice how much the small show of strength seems to spur Estinien onward. Pink creeps onto his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Where before he had been simply content lying idle and teasing, he looks to be at a loss for words, for once.

“No, no, she has the right of it,” Aymeric says, watching her lick and kiss along the length of his cock. In almost an instant, an idea strikes him, one that has the heat in his belly churning, that has him almost nervous as to how such an act would be received.

But, there is only one way to find out.

With one last lingering kiss to Estinien’s lips, Aymeric shifts lower until he’s level with the Warrior of Light. She looks surprised at his movement, but is quick to make space for him. Her hands still hold his hips down, restricting movement to the point that hand-shaped bruises might bloom across his hip bones should he struggle too much.

As she swirls her tongue around the tip of Estinien’s cock, Aymeric takes the opportunity to let his tongue trial messily along the underside, up and up until he feels her tongue against his own.

“Oh, _gods_,” Estinien moans. Aymeric hears the impact of a head falling back onto a pillow. “You two are… t-too much…”

They meet in a sloppy kiss, neglecting their partner for a brief moment in favor of indulging each other. Aymeric glances at Estinien after a time and finds him now watching with rapt attention, seemingly enjoying the view. He takes the chance to shift closer, letting his tongue press past her lips. She tastes clean, somehow, and absolutely intoxicating. 

Estinien lifts his hips slightly, a low whine in the back of his throat, but in one swift motion the Warrior of Light shoves them down and pins them to the bed. “Be good for me, will you?”

The words seem to take him by surprise. He bites his lip against a noise that threatens to escape, as she turns her attention back to Aymeric. Her hand continues to stroke his length idly with practiced fingers, keeping him occupied. His thighs are tense with the effort it takes to stay still, to be good like she asked.

Eventually, Estinien huffs an impatient sigh, and Aymeric decides they've teased him quite enough. It takes far too much restraint to pull away from her and focus instead on Estinien’s cock before him, flushed red and wanting for attention.

In a daring move, Aymeric wraps his lips around the tip and sucks, tentative at first and keenly aware of the eyes on him even as his own slip shut. Featherlight fingers brush his bangs back out of his face, and he opens his eyes once more to see the Warrior of Light admiring him, of all people, with a small smile clear as day on her lips. The shine in her eyes is disarming and reverent, and it sends warmth blooming through his chest.

He applies the barest amount of suction, trying to keep his teeth concealed with his lips. His tongue presses up beneath the head, sucking harder and savoring the heady taste. Estinien’s hips try to buck upwards into his mouth, but the Warrior of Light’s firm grip keeps him in check. Scrambling for some kind of sensation, he reaches down and tangles fingers in Aymeric’s already mussed hair, tugging as a thinly veiled way to push his head further down onto his cock.

“Absolutely divine, my lord… Would that we knew about your oral talents before now,” she says, “But I’m certain it’s not the only thing at which you excel.” A hand slips down and wraps around his own length. He moans his surprise around Estinien, a sensation that has him squirming once again. Even with only one arm draped across his hips, she is able to hold him still as Aymeric continues, though he falters at the new stimulation.

“Don’t — _ah!_ Aymeric…” Estinien moans, practicing restraint despite his obvious desire to shove his cock down Aymeric’s throat as far as he will allow.

The Warrior of Light glances up at him briefly and seems to make a snap decision. In one swift motion, the hand holding Estinien down shifts over and wraps firm around the base of his cock. The other hand moves up to Aymeric’s chest and eases him backwards off the length, still flushed red and wanting. A thin thread of saliva connects his lip to the end of Estinien’s cock, filthy in a way that makes him miss the sensation.

Estinien makes a punched-out noise at the loss, propping himself upright on his elbows and glaring down at her.

“Not yet, my dear,” she says with a honey-sweet voice, “We have yet to find out what else Aymeric can do.” She slowly pumps their lengths in either hand, not applying nearly enough pressure to be satisfying.

“You call him a tease and yet _you_ are the worst tease of all.” Estinien almost growls the words, clearly agitated by having the pleasure pulled out from beneath him. She, in response, returns to his side, and Aymeric can do naught but follow.

Estinien wastes no time in pulling Aymeric into a kiss, heated and heavy and absolutely wanting. They roll on their sides to face each other, and the Warrior of Light takes the chance to fetch something from the nightstand, a small glass vial. Soon after, she presses herself up against Aymeric’s back, surrounding him in warmth on all sides.

She’s gentle and coaxing when she props one of his legs up, exposing him. “I’d have the honor of preparing you for Estinien if you’d like, my lord,” she says, part question and part promise.

“Please, yes, please,” he says, sounding far more desperate than he means to. He tries not to blush so much at such a shameless display, nervous energy only serving to wind him up further.

He’s never been one to receive in this manner, but he trusts her to take care of him with due caution. A slick finger circles around his entrance before pressing in just slightly, a blunt yet enticing pressure. He lets out a surprised noise at the sensation, not expecting it to feel quite like _that_, but she proceeds sufficiently slow. Estinien does a marvelous job at distracting him, lips and tongue like heaven against his own.

The finger works in and out of him at a steady pace. Lips press at the back of his neck, and it makes him shudder and shift into the sensation. After perhaps a longer time than necessary, a second finger is added alongside the first, slowly spreading him open.

It takes a longer time to grow accustomed to two, but the Warrior of Light is nothing if not patient with her ministrations. Eventually she is able to fit them both comfortably, scissoring them as she keeps her slow pace. Heat curls low in his belly, reveling in such undivided attention. But he finds himself discontent to simply lay still and take what he is given. Instead, Aymeric takes the initiative and reaches down to palm at Estinien’s cock, and receives an appreciative groan for his efforts.

They continue at their languid pace for a while, until she crooks her fingers just so and sends a jolt of pleasure down Aymeric’s spine.

“_Oh!_ Fury, that was…” He feels more than he hears her answering chuckle from behind him, transitioning to three fingers as she presses in again with more of the oil for good measure. In one small motion, the preparation process turns from something gentle and coaxing into fire in his chest, making him crave more.

After a bit more stretching and a few errant touches against _that_ spot, she deems him worthy and removes her fingers. He didn’t think he would find himself missing the sensation, but something about being so thoroughly full has him damn near whimpering at the loss.

She leans up and nips at his earlobe, a move that has him letting out the whine trapped in his chest.

“Come here, my lord, that I might feel you for myself,” she whispers, and how could he do anything but obey?

He abandons Estinien to crawl on top of her, making himself comfortable between her thighs. Her arms wrap around his neck and pull him close, with a smile on her face so divine that Aymeric feels the need to stop and admire it. And so he does.

He comes to the stark realization that here, she is not the valiant Warrior of Light. She is not reduced to her deeds and capability in battle and all the other attributes for which she is consistently lauded. She’s raw, exposed, and he revels in it. Seeing her here beneath him, not as allies but as lovers, is a feeling Aymeric is not sure he could ever forget. Not that he would ever want to, of course.

It only takes a few moments before she huffs impatiently, and the smile turns into a pout that is equally divine in Aymeric’s eyes. But, he takes pity. He lines up with her entrance, and with as much care as she took in preparing him, he eases the head of his cock into her.

Her eyes shutter closed at the sensation and she leans her head back onto the pillows, exposing her neck. Aymeric takes advantage of this and presses wet kisses at the junction between her neck and shoulders. “Oh, my... You feel..._sublime_,” she gasps. As he continues to press forward, words leave her entirely; she lets out a moan so full of satisfaction that Aymeric fears their time together may end sooner than any of them would like.

Once fully seated inside her, he feels a warm body press against his back, strong hands grasping his hips and keeping him still. Estinien pushes his legs apart and makes a space for himself between them, and after a small moment, begins to press his tip against Aymeric’s entrance.

“_Hah_…” Aymeric can’t help the shaky noise that escapes his lips. The sensation is vastly different than the Warrior of Light’s dainty, deft fingers. It begets a friction that Aymeric finds intoxicating, wanting to press back into it to speed up the process. With such maddening heat both in front of him and behind, he feels torn between bucking his hips forward or backward into either of his lovers.

Lips find his neck and suck small bruises as Estinien presses into him with as much care as Aymeric had taken with the Warrior of Light. Once Estinien’s cock is fully buried in his hole, his chest pressed flush against his spine, he whispers low, “Be patient, you’ll have your moment soon enough.”

Without further warning, he starts thrusting in and out of him, slow and steady at first, obviously holding himself back for Aymeric’s sake. The languid motion of his hips pushes Aymeric’s as well, following the same rhythm as if forcing him to fuck into her. It’s at once too much and not enough. Aymeric hisses a breath at the motion, tensing around him.

Estinien hisses against his skin, hips struggling to keep their motion. “D-Don’t… Don’t do that, not yet,” he says, voice obviously affected. It’s the one of the only times he’s been so verbally affected, nonchalance melting away to give light to exactly how much he is enjoying himself.

The Warrior of Light’s hands trace up and across Aymeric’s chest in soothing patterns, her own chest flushed red where she lay beneath them. “Relax, love,” she murmurs, and Aymeric releases a shaky sigh. But then she smirks, wicked. “Or don’t. No one has ever died of too much pleasure.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Estinien retorts over Aymeric’s shoulder.

He tries to find words to respond to his lovers but none appear. He instead finds himself overwhelmed with the feeling of fucking and _being_ fucked, simultaneously. Breathing is about the most he can do, and even then, it is labored and shaky.

He lets Estinien move for him, the momentum from his thrusts sending him deeper into the Warrior of Light. Tension finds him once again as he speeds up, and in turn Estinien’s pace seems to falter just slightly. He loses more of his control and increases his strength, the slap of skin against skin filling the room alongside their combined sighs and moans.

One particularly brutal thrust finds that spot she had prodded during her preparation, and the sensation is almost too much to bear. A loud moan takes him, louder than the others, one that would have been embarrassing had he any shame.

That, in itself, is enough; Estinien’s pleasure is the first to reach its peak when Aymeric’s entrance tightens in response. He presses flush against Aymeric and warmth spreads within him as Estinien’s teeth sink into his shoulder, threatening but not applying enough force to detract from the pleasure. He breathes against him, pressed flush against his back, coming down in slow parts.

Once he catches his breath, he pulls out of Aymeric in one smooth motion. He’s shocked at the loss, and even more shocked that he actually misses the friction and fullness that accompanies Estinien’s cock in his ass. From over his shoulder, Aymeric can hear the smirk in his words as he says, “Your turn. Enjoy.”

The Warrior of Light’s hands trail up from his chest to his neck, beckoning his face closer that she might kiss it. It is all too easy to oblige, pressing closer and indulging in her lips and tongue. Her arms wrap around his neck and pull him further into the kiss, and she hikes a leg upon his shoulder to allow him more leverage. That motion alone threatens to break him, such brazen flexibility and physical prowess on display in the same way one might lift their hand in a wave.

More slick sounds fill the room as Aymeric picks up the pace for himself, going nearly as fast and as forceful as Estinien had. He takes the chance to pull back and watch her face for himself, enjoying the view as she loses composure.

In a fit of inspiration, he reaches down and rubs circles around her clit, messy and fervent, abandoning all foreplay in favor of chasing her completion. The motion pulls louder noises from her lungs, oscillating between coherent pleas for pleasure and moans that take no particular shape.

“More… A-Aymeric, please… _Aymeric…_”

And with that, he is undone. She reaches her climax and clenches tight around him, twitching as his pace loses its form in favor of chasing his own. She’s still riding out the waves of pleasure as he finishes close behind, one slow thrust into her as he groans low.

They breathe together for a moment, hearts beating in tandem. She clings to him, trying to stay as close as possible, to savor the moment. Aymeric tries not to crush her with his weight as he presses his lips against her cheek, her jaw, whatever skin he can reach, just to take advantage of the fact that he can even do such a thing.

He eventually softens and pulls out, taking his place beside her as Estinien takes the other.

“We need a bath,” she says through a blissful sigh, and it startles a laugh from the two of them.

“Perhaps another time,” Aymeric responds, hugging her closer. The concept of this relationship, whatever it may mean for them, fills him with a light and giddy feeling, one he means to appreciate to its fullest.

“There will be another time, then?” Estinien asks, almost hesitant in his tone. Testing the waters, as if he’s still unsure whether Aymeric truly wants this.

“Yes.” She answers before the word can even leave Aymeric’s lips. She turns and wraps her arms around Aymeric in turn, holding him tight, almost possessive through her contented haze. “Yes, and then another, and then another, and then yet another. If you think I’m letting you escape my grasp any time soon, you are _sorely_ mistaken.”

He smiles and kisses her, and kisses her once more just because he can. Estinien turns and hugs her from behind, smiling contentedly at Aymeric over her shoulder.

And how could he possibly refuse?

**Author's Note:**

> *shows up to heavensward 4.5 years late with starbucks* aymeric is my husband now
> 
> anyways this fic has been haunting my skeleton for the past week. not sure how this got to be so long but here we are i guess. originally wasn't going to post because i'm shy but i figured someone might get a kick out of it
> 
> we out here [@shoutzwastaken](http://twitter.com/shoutzwastaken)
> 
> by the grace of this work i have ascended, come join me in [the book club](https://discord.gg/X6NJJAb)


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